To Forget the War
by booksrule.tinuri
Summary: Ginny doesn't want to remember the war. Not even the good parts. But Harry serves as a constant reminder to her, a person in her life that she can't ignore. But when she searches for a distraction from her relationship, Ginny finds solace in the unlikeliest of places and realises that sometimes, forgetting can hurt just as much as remembering. AU story - May contain some OoC parts


Author's Note:

Hey,

So this is actually just my second fanfiction and another version of this was initially written for a friend, who has since left me. But as a way of relaxation and of amusing myself, I decided to rewrite it in a way that I believe is a lot more believable than what I wrote before. In the description, I have established that this is indeed a "Drinny" fanfiction, but I have decided to focus on the relationship between Harry and Ginny in this chapter so that I can make the story a bit more believable. In the next chapter, I'm going to look at Draco's life a bit more. Reviews would be very much appreciated and if you find any grammatical errors, please do tell me ( for some reason, the p button on my laptop stops working for a while so that is why some ps may be missing).

This story is my own, however the characters are very much borrowed from J.K Rowling, as are most of the magical concepts.

Anyway,

I really do hope you enjoy!

The author

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Ginevra Molly Potter. It sounded brilliant.

Weasley was great, sure, but it wasn't _different_.

It wasn't mysterious, important or at all that _exotic_.

It was boring, the name she had been called all her life. It wasn't Potter. It couldn't be Potter, Potter meant excitement, exhilaration and wonder. Potter meant adventure and fun and happiness, things Ginny liked the most of all. And it meant Harry. It meant Harry forever. Harry as long as she lived. The marvellousness of it all was getting to her, all the thoughts in her head had muddled into an excited heap of unnecessarily long adjectives… It was seriously astounding.

"YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES!" she cried, stooping to hug the slightly surprised man kneeling in front of her.

The night flew by the two young spirits like a giddy dream as laughter echoed through the slightly cold air and seemed to continue on until morning...

Ginny looked at the shiny framed photograph on the small table.

From within the confines of their glass haven, a couple smiled and held each other with glee.

A rosy-cheeked, smiley-eyed, fiery-haired young girl, no older than twenty clutched onto a man, hardened by the years and eyeing the camera with relief, his sharp, handsome face twisted into a shy smile.

Harry had wanted a muggle photo, though Ginny never really knew why. Until now.

That photo was a single, blissful moment of stability in his tumultuous life. A small fragment of peace, unmoving, unwavering peace. It was fixated on a point in life that was unchanging and could never be altered. It did not look as if it was about to fly away somewhere, moving into oblivion.

In fact, as Ginny looked at the freshly married couple in the picture, she realised how normal it looked.

Ordinary.

It was almost boring.

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It was very hard to tell which Harry would be present each day. There were many Harrys in Ginny's life. There was Harry the kind and caring husband. There was Harry the supportive, proud friend, happy to see Ginny doing whatever she was doing. There were many different Ginnys too. But mostly she was the grateful Ginny, the smiling Ginny, the "I-have-a-wonderful-life" Ginny. The Ginny that was never upset, the Ginny that was never asked how she was, because of course she was good, of course she was fine, she married Harry Bloody Potter. That is as far as your luck really gets.

Then there was Harry the brooding, silent war hero, who often thought of other days, playing them over and over in his head, blaming himself for every death and every casualty, torturing himself with the past and paying no heed to the present. And Ginny was healer Ginny, offering the same words of consolation over and over again.

 _It wasn't your fault, Harry._

Ginny sighed and shifted in her armchair, trying to make sense of the preface of a vampire romance novel Hermione had been oddly keen to get rid of. In hindsight, Ginny could kind of see why.

Suddenly, Harry emerged from the bedroom.

"Oh, Harry! Hi! You're up early!" Ginny said, eagerly, begging for him to respond the way she wanted him to.

Harry nodded his reply and sat at his armchair, looking out of the window. A vacant stare crossed his features as he forced himself to relive the atrocities of war. For him, as a boy, it was a quick thing, almost unreal. But as a grown man, it was different. It was as if the story-like chapter of his life had ended, with a new one beginning. It was as if he yearned for his new life as much as he bitterly missed his old one.

Ginny shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"Do you want some breakfast?"

Harry shook his head. Ginny desperately tried to cling onto a thread of rational conversation.

"I think I'm going to visit Hermione today." she began.

"Huh." Harry seemed to reply, absently.

"Yeah, I'm going to ask her for another book… This one's too confusing." Ginny went on, eagerly.

"Oh."

Ginny looked down.

"Do you want me to call Ron?" she asked.

"Huh?" asked Harry.

He hadn't been listening. He probably couldn't listen.

"Do you want me to call Ron? He could come around for some butterbeer and you two could have some company while Hermione and I go out. You guys could talk, you know, just like old times."

"Um… Yeah, okay… Ron. Sure." Harry replied, with a small smile.

Ginny jumped out of the seat as relief flooded over her. Harry had smiled. She could stop worrying now.

She hurried into the corridor and immediately stopped. Guilt filled her. _I shouldn't have rushed off like that. He's probably upset now._

Half-turning, she shook her head. She couldn't go back now. She didn't want to see his sadness. _I am such a useless coward,_ she thought, angrily. And just as the guilt seemed to overflow her she yelled her usual mantra.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry"

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Ginny looked down at Hermione's book as she held it in her gloved hands. It was a strange book, that much had to be said about it.

"Hey Ginny!" yelled a very familiar voice.

Looking up, Ginny waved at the coated up figure in the distance. Curly, untamed hair escaped her beanie as she walked with a confident stride, her cheeks pink from the cold and her scarf bellowing about her like an angry octopus, waving a tentacle in frustration.

Ginny laughed as Hermione sat down with a huff on the park bench.

"I think it's getting colder rather than warmer, honestly."

She looked over at Ginny's lap and cringed.

"Um… Did you like the book?" she asked.

"It certainly is… Interesting. But I found it slightly confusing." Ginny replied.

"Well, I have very many adjectives that I associate with that book and most of them aren't exactly worthy of being spoken."

Ginny giggled and put the book inside her coat pocket (they were bigger on the inside).

"So, how is life?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, you know, not bad. Still working in Law Enforcement. Pretty boring." Hermione replied, nonchalantly.

This was of course, a huge lie on Hermione's part. It was quite common knowledge that Hermione Granger loved her job. She loved it so much that people thought that she was slightly mad. And, of course, not wanting to fail the next ministry health check (lest she lose her job), she now pretended that she thought it was very boring indeed.

Ginny smirked and shook her head at Hermione. She was biting her lip now, it was clear that she had many stories of her own to tell.

"Alright, tell me about your recent cases." Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

Hermione's eyes however, seemed to physically light up as she launched into tales of pygmy puff trafficking and illegal owl post interceptions to failed court trials and drunken bank heists. Ginny listened, happy for the distractions that seemed to always come with Hermione.

After a while, a sudden lull came upon the comfortably one-sided conversation. Ginny decided to speak.

"Hermione, do you ever think of the war?"

Hermione frowned.

"But of course, everyday."

"Can I tell you something Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"Anything."

"I don't." said Ginny.

"You don't what?" asked Hermione, cautiously.

"Think of the war."

There was a long silence.

"Not even the good parts. Not even them."

Hermione turned to look at Ginny.

"Do you want to know why?" Ginny asked.

Hermione nodded at her to go on.

"Because I'm scared I'll think of the bad parts."

Ginny looked at Hermione.

"I can't even help Harry, Hermione, because I'm scared. I'm scared that I'll have to think about it. Actually think about it. I'm a coward. I'm a selfish coward."

"No you are-" Hermione started.

"No, Hermione, you don't understand. The reason I married Harry was because I loved him. And I still love him. But there was a more selfish reason, Hermione. It was a horrible reason, a reason that should never have crossed my mind in the first place. I married him because I foolishly thought that I could lean on him. That he could help me forget. That we could both forget together and live a life of fun and adventure." Ginny laughed, choking back tears.

"And, do you know what, Hermione? I think that was part of the reason why he married me, to forget. But we can't forget, Hermione. We are living, breathing reminders. Living, breathing reminders to each other of our past. And it's torture, complete torture, because I don't want to see him upset, but that is what I always see."

Hermione looked at Ginny's tear-stained face and looked down. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around her friend and looked into the distance.

"And I don't think I can go on for too long like this."

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"How's Ginny?" Ron asked.

Harry hiccupped and grinned through his butterbeer.

"What's it to you?"

"Well, I mean, she is my sister." Ron replied.

Harry snorted, he was, indeed, correct. Then his expression clouded over.

"I don't know."

"What?" Ron asked.

"I don't know how she is. But I don't think she is happy."

"What?" Ron repeated.

"She hasn't been happy for a while now. I think we're both a bit distant."

Ron nodded his head in apparent understanding.

"Oh, I get it. A rough patch. Hermione and I had one last week when I bought home an enchanted couch and her cat crawled into it."

Ron leaned forward, as if he was conspiring with him.

"It didn't come out until this morning!"

Harry smiled wanly.

"Yeah, a rough patch."

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Ginny stirred her tea in silent anticipation, staring at the closed door of her bedroom. Soon, Harry was going to walk through, groggy from sleep and smile at her. Then he was going to choose a Harry to be for the day.

Sure enough, Harry walked slowly out of the room and, looking up at Ginny, he smiled. He then sat down in his chair and looked out of the window, his expression clouding over and his eyes vacant. Ginny suppressed a sigh.

Maybe she was being really selfish. Maybe she was asking for too much. A lot of other people would do so many things to be in her position, she should be grateful and happy, but all she felt was anger. A fire burned in her mind, unrelenting and vicious. Ginevra Potter was angry.

Ginny took her spoon out of her small cup and slammed it into the sink. She walked and quickly stopped in front of a slightly shocked Harry.

"Why can't I ever talk to you anymore, Harry? Why are you so distant? Why can't you just- just- Just forget? Why Harry? How can you ignore this Harry? How can you not see that we aren't what we used to be?" Ginny cried.

Harry just stared at her. And that was when Ginny realised that he wasn't the same man she had married, he wasn't the same boy she had married. They weren't healing each other, they were slowly breaking each other. They were their own emotional enemies.

Silently, they embraced and a million unshed tears ran between them, a million unspoken words mingled in the air around them.

Two candles had been lit years ago between them, two flames that were expected to burn brightly. But those flames were quickly put out by the raging storms of war, and neither had noticed until their wicks were too wet to light again.

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Ginny Weasley looked up at the dark sky, riddled with clouds and grey with the promise of rain.

Her body felt empty, as if most of her was gone. She was an unfeeling, uncaring vessel of emptiness, just like she always had been. But she felt it the most now, as she forced herself to look within.

Tomorrow, the papers will reveal everything. Tomorrow, the tabloids will be scrutinizing every aspect of her life. Tomorrow, she will have a reason to be angry.

But today, all she had was herself, herself to question, herself to be scrutinized by none other than herself.

 _How? How did it come to this? How did we bring our relationship to this?_

Sighing, Ginny walked slowly, the rain mingling with her tears, her eyes finally open to the reality of the end of a relationship and the thoughts of what could have been.


End file.
